The Ranger Hell Week
by Imaginigma
Summary: Aragorn and Halbarad have taken two young rangers under their wings. But when Aragorn gets injured in the wilds and Halbarad has to leave him, the two young rangers are the only ones who are there to help Aragorn survive.
1. Falling

**Title: The Ranger Hell Week**

**Disclaimer:** Tolkien's creations are not mine and I will never own them.

**Summary:** Aragorn and Halbarad have taken two young rangers under their wings. But when Aragorn gets injured in the wilds and Halbarad has to leave him, the two young rangers are the only ones who are there to help Aragorn survive.

**Rating:** PG-13

A/N: Written for the Teitho Challenge "Unlikely Heroes"

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**Chapter 1: Falling**

"Alright, put your right hand on that rock right above your head. When you have a secure hold, move you left foot up on the next ridge." Aragorn called up to young ranger, who hang on the steep cliff wall. The rope that was bound around the young rangers middle and legs sneaked up the cliff, preventing him from falling down. The end of the rope was wound around the thick trunk of a tree, and Halbarad, who stood at the top of the hill made sure that it did not fray on the sharp rocks.

The young ranger, Marek, did as Aragorn told him and inched slowly up the cliff. He was wearing his leather gloves to protect his hands from the stones, but already his fingers were scratched and bleeding, so tightly did he cling to the wall. Some of the older rangers had told him that this part of the training was the worst, but he had not believed them. What could be so difficult with climbing up a cliff? Well, he believed them now, and only wished for this nightmare climb to end. The bad things was, that the stupid cliff was huge. And he still had a long way to go before he reached the top.

"Now put your right foot on that rock outcropping to your right, and find a hold for your left hand after that. Careful now, Marek." Aragorn called from his position under Marek. He, too, was hanging in the cliff wall, similarly secured as Marek was. But his rope was not under the attention of Halbarad; another young ranger, Romorin, had an eye on his security rope.

Marek put his right foot on the outcropping and pulled his body up another half foot. The rope became lax and then tightened again when Halbarad pulled at it from above. He could hear Aragorn climb up the cliff, and in the corner of his eye he could see Aragorn's rope become lax before it, too, tightened again.

In this manner the two rangers climbed up the cliff, ever so slowly. It irked Marek more than he was ready to admit that his friend, Romorin, had managed the climb in half the time he would need. And it irked him even more that Aragorn, his Chieftain, seemed to have taken it upon himself to climb with him. As if he was afraid that he would make it up in once piece. To have his Chieftain as teacher on this very important trip was scary enough. But to have him think that he was not even capable of climbing this cliff was frustrating.

Aragorn secured his position on the cliff wall and looked up at Marek. So far, the young ranger had done well and proven to be a good climber. But that did not mean that he was not making mistakes. Sighing, Aragorn shook his head slightly and counted silently.

One, two, three, four, aaaand there he goes.

Aragorn did not know how many times he had warned Marek about the dangers of a climb such as this one. And what was the boy doing now? Exactly. The opposite of what Aragorn had told him.

"Do not look up while you climb, Marek." Aragorn called up to Marek, sounding as if he was not in the least tired after this climb. Although, he wanted to reach the top as badly as Marek did, but because of slightly different reasons. "When you look up, you could easily lose your balance, and that could prove fatal. Always one move after the other, Marek."

Watching how the young ranger bit his bottom lip and adverted his eyes from the inviting sight above him, Aragorn sighed deeply. It was not as if the wanted to reprimand Marek all the time. It was just that this young rangers seemed to always do something wrong.

Aragorn concentrated on his climb for the next few minutes, with one eye always on Marek. He knew that Halbarad had a secure hold on the boy. Just as he had had a few hours ago, when Halbarad had climbed this cliff with Romorin.

From his own experience, Aragorn knew that the tiredness and pain in Marek's arms had to grow steadily. Surely the boy would ask himself how far above the ledge was still away. Only a few more feet or still as far as from The Angle to The Havens? Aragorn resisted the urge to wipe away another trickle of sweat on is forehead, and searched for a suitable hold. The rock he was currently standing on did not feel very steady.

His searching eyes found a protruding rock, and he tested it before he hastily put his foot on it. The rock moved a bit, but then it held his weight.

Above him, Marek had barely touched another rock, when Aragorn growled and called up sharply.

"Marek! How many times do I have to tell you that you never, ever, put your weight on a stone without testing its strength before?"

Frustrated and tired, Marek called back. "But it held!"

"Aye, this time. You were lucky. It could have broken away, and then Halbarad's quick reflexes would have been the only thing that would have prevented you from falling down this cliff. And Halbarad is not always there to help you, Marek. What would happen if you climb alone?"

A myriad of emotions flickered through Marek's eyes and Aragorn could have kicked himself for being so stern. In that moment, Marek must feel more like a child than he had in years. Surely he just now asked himself not for the first time why he had insisted on going on the so called "Ranger Hell Week" this year, and had not waited for the next one, upcoming summer. The Ranger Hell Week was done three times a year, after all, seeing that all young rangers had to pass the tests that were held during this two week trip. Yes, had he waited till the next summer, then he could have gone with Hawk and Eagle. Not with the Chieftain and his second in command. Then, things would surely have been easier. And more fun.

But still, they had a reason to do these Hell Weeks, and Aragorn had had a good reason to lead this one. He had been away for too long from The Angle. The chance to spend some time with Halbarad had been too inviting to pass up.

Sighing once more and scolding himself for doing it at the same time, Aragorn tilted his head and peered at the sky. The dark clouds that had been mere shadows in the morning, now loomed threateningly above them. They should not linger. Well, Aragorn thought, lets see if I can make Marek move a bit faster.

"Marek, have you fallen asleep up there? Move!" His sharp voice ripped Marek from his thoughts, and with an obvious grimace he pulled his body up the cliff. Inside his head, Marek repeated his motto over and over. Find a handhold, test it, grab it, pull up. Find a foothold, test it, grab it, pull up. Find a handhold, test it, grab it, pull up. Find a foothold, test it, grab it, pull up…

For some more minutes the two rangers climbed up the steep wall. Marek did as best he could, feeling Aragorn's stern gaze burning into his back. So immersed in his task was he, that he did not notice the storm clouds that marched across the sky, or that the wind picked up steadily, until it hissed along the cliff. Only when fine droplets of rain began to splatter down on him and make the stones slippery, did he notice the storm that was about to brake lose.

Panicked, he looked up the wall.

"Marek! Do not look up! Concentrate on what you are doing, boy!"

Really, how many times did he have to tell Marek this piece of information before it actually registered in the boy's head? It was crucial to hold one's balance while climbing and one of the fundamental rules the rangers had to learn early in their lives.

Marek snapped his head back down. Unseen by Aragorn, hot tears stung his eyes, and he closed them tightly. "Boy". His Chieftain, the man that he adored probably more than even his own father, had called him a mere boy. He was twenty, for Valars' sake. As old as Aragorn had been when he had returned to the rangers. He was no boy any longer!

Anger replaced his momentary shame on his face, and Marek clenched his teeth. He would show his Chieftain that he was no boy any longer, and that he was very well capable of climbing this cursed cliff. Even in a storm! A bolt of lightning, closely followed by a loud roaring thundered across the sky, causing Marek to flinch horribly.

With the wind picking up and the rain falling thickly and strongly by now, Aragorn had increasing problems to find hand and footholds, and he knew that Marek did not fare better. Doing his best, he climbed on. How he wished to just climb up this stupid cliff as fast as he could, but his duty to help Marek prevented him from doing just that.

Suddenly, he heard Halbarad's voice call down to them, blown away a bit by the raging storm. "Aragorn, the storm is getting too strong. We should interrupt this and begin anew tomorrow. Romorin and I can pull up you much quicker than you could climb."

Oh, thank you, Halbarad. You just made my day!

Relief surged through him, but only for a second. Do this again tomorrow? Again? No, he really did not want to do this one more time. One time was entirely enough. He had come on this trip to spend some time with his best friend and teach some young rangers, not spend the days hanging on a cliff wall, in the icy rain, with a pupil who only understood what he wanted to.

And it seemed that Aragorn was not alone in this opinion.

Anger replaced the relief on Marek's face, and he shook his head to clear it from the rain water that ran it down in rivulets. He was almost up, he knew that much, and he would climb the rest of the way. Today. Seeing the refusal on Marek's face, one part of Aragorn was roaring with approval, while the other reminded him that there was a storm raging around them and a young ranger with practically two left feet. And hands. Therefore, Aragorn tilted his head back and called up loudly.

"Aye, you are right, Halbarad. Pull Marek up first, he is nearer to the edge."

But to Aragorn's surprise, Marek dug his fingers deeper into the stone wall and stemmed his feet against the rocks. He would not be pulled up like an invalid. He could climb this cliff.

"No, I can climb!" He shouted against the storm, and began to pull his body up another half foot.

Wonderful. This is the first time in all these days that he speaks up and says what he really means. But does he have to find his courage NOW?

"Marek, do as I say and let Halbarad pull you up!" Aragorn called, but Marek ignored him. He found another rock above his head to the right, tested it and then grabbed it to pull himself up.

"Halbarad, pull him up!" Aragorn shouted, and although he could not hear an answer, he knew without a doubt that Halbarad would do as he had asked.

And surely, only a moment later the rope that wound around Marek's body tightened when Halbarad began to pull him up. Unwilling to be hauled up, Marek clung to the cliff wall and shook his head. "No! I can climb!"

There was no answer but the raging of the wind and the fierce rain, and Marek's face was victorious.

Has no one ever told him that one obeys his elders? 

Trying to look as grim as he could, with the rain plastering his hair against his skull and water running down his nose, Aragorn sped his climb up until he was level with Marek. The boy turned his head, and when he saw Aragorn the small victorious smile that had been playing around his lips vanished immediately, causing Aragorn to smirk inwardly.

Perhaps someone has after all.

"Marek, you do as I say and let Halbarad pull you up. Do you understand?" His voice was cutting through Marek like a knife through water, and the only thing that Marek could do was nod. Aragorn studied him a moment longer, before he, too, nodded.

"Halbarad, pull him up."

A moment later, the rope around Marek's body tightened once more, and he let go of his tight hold on the wall and let Halbarad and Romorin pull him up. Inch for inch he snailed up the wall, while the storm around him became stronger. Soon, the wind was howling around the wall, and the rain had become so strong that Marek could not have made out the edge of the wall had he dared to look up.

Beneath him, Aragorn resumed his climbing. Although the storm was already strong, he had seen enough storms to know that this one had not reached its peak yet, and this it would soon turn even more fierce. It would take Halbarad and Romorin some minutes to pull Marek up the wall, and every foot that he could climb by himself, would spare Halbarad and Romorin the time and strength to pull him up.

Another strong pull brought Marek up the cliff, and then a bright bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and illuminated the scene. This time, Marek could not withstand the temptation to look up at the ledge, regardless of what Aragorn had told him so many times.

Aragorn saw him look up at the edge of the cliff and breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that he was almost up. Only a few more feet. A few strong pulls. Shaking his head, Aragorn decided to let it go this time. There was time for reprimands later. What was important now was they made it up this cliff before the storm became too strong.

With wet hands, Marek tried to help with his ascend as best he could. The wind ripped at his clothing and made him sway strongly. He felt as if he was on the deck of a ship on the high seas, and not hanging on a cliff wall.

"And pull!" Halbarad's voice shouted from above and a pull went through his rope. A moment later, Marek's hands reached for the edge of the cliff wall, and soon strong arms grabbed his shoulders and his belt and pulled him onto the muddy ledge.

Marek had barely recovered from his climb, when his eyes saw something had made his blood freeze in his veins. There, next to his sprawled body, was Aragorn's rope. The rope hung over the edge of the cliff and vanished in the depth of the cliff, but that was not what was making Marek's eyes become as wide as saucers.

The rope was swaying from left to right, and every time the rope scraped over the stones, it frayed a bit more. The protective cloth that should have been sitting under the rope was missing, perhaps blown away by the strong wind. Obviously, Halbarad and Romorin had been too occupied with pulling himself up, to keep a close eye on Aragorn's safety line.

Pushing himself to his knees, Marek pointed frantically at the fraying rope. "The rope! Its snapping!"

In an instant, Halbarad had let go of Marek's rope and was on his knees at Aragorn's, struggling out of is coat to provide at least some form of support for the rope before he and Romorin would pull Aragorn up. But, it was already too late.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn saw a tall shadow rush along the edge of the cliff. For he moment he wondered what was going one, and if something had happened to Marek, but then he felt the rope that held him shudder and tremble.

Uh oh… 

With a sickening crack the last few strands snapped, and the whole rope swayed for a moment like whip, before it vanished down the cliff wall.

"Aragorn, your rope snapped!" Halbarad yelled frantically and threw himself down on his stomach to peer over the ledge.

Uh, yes. Thank you very much for this very obvious statement.

Aragorn reached out, trying to hold on to the rocks, the stones, anything that would stop him from falling down this cursed cliff. For a moment he could hold on to a rock, but then the stone moved under his hands and with a shout he felt himself fall.

His faint, surprised yell reached up the cliff, and Halbarad shouted frantically "Aragorn! Aragorn!!!!"

Then, the only thing that could be heard was the howling of the storm.

Tbc...

**Reviews, anyone?? ;)**


	2. Rescue

**Title: The Ranger Hell Week**

**Disclaimer:** Tolkien's creations are not mine and I will never own them.

**Summary:** Aragorn and Halbarad have taken two young rangers under their wings. But when Aragorn gets injured in the wilds and Halbarad has to leave him, the two young rangers are the only ones who are there to help Aragorn survive.

**Rating:** PG-13

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Chapter 2: Rescue

Halbarad hastened along the edge of the cliff as fast as he could. There was an ascendable part half a league to the south, and that was where Halbarad was headed now so frantically. He had seen Aragorn reach for a handhold, but then his fingers must have slipped, for the next thing that Halbarad had seen was Aragorn falling down the cliff and vanishing in the rain. And with the darkness that the storm had created, Halbarad had not been able to see Aragorn hit the bottom of the cliff. But he knew that the fall had been high, and Halbarad hoped that Aragorn was not dead. He simply could not be.

His feet slipped on the muddy ground, and Halbarad spread his arms out wide to recover his balance. The two young rangers were high on his heels, but Halbarad did not spare a thought on them. Along he hastened, until he finally reached the down sloping part of the cliff and descended it as quickly as he could. He had to lean his body back to prevent himself from tumbling down the hill, and when his feet hit the ground, he was out of breath. Still, Halbarad raced on as fast as he could, back to where they had started this climbing lesson this very morning.

Rain hit his face and his hair was in disarray as Halbarad reached the place where Aragorn must have landed. Panting, he stopped in his tracks and turned around in a circle, his eyes searching the ground. "Aragorn! Can you hear me? Aragorn?"

There was no answer but the raging of the storm. A moment later, Marek and Romorin came to a muddy stop next to him. They let their eyes roam across the ground, but they, too, could not see Aragorn. "Where is he?" Romorin asked breathlessly.

Halbarad did not answer, but instead lifted his head and looked up the cliff. When Aragorn was not lying at the bottom of the cliff, then Aragorn must have stopped his fall somehow. Or maybe, his fall had been stopped for him.

Without further thought, Halbarad gestured at the ground, "You two search here. I will go up there."

"But…" Marek began, but Halbarad was already clinging to the cliff wall and searching for a way up. In but a few heartbeats he was up a few feet. Exchanging a look, Marek and Romorin did as Halbarad had told them and searched the ground for any sign of Aragorn.

Panting, Halbarad hasted up the cliff as fast as he could. Down here, the cliff was not as steep as it was further up, and he had climbed this particular cliff so many times in the past that he had not even to search for suitable handholds.

Hope sprouted in his chest and he climbed higher and higher without any sign of Aragorn. It could only mean that Aragorn had not fallen the whole way down, but had been able to stop his fall.

Another gale of strong wind clutched at his clothing, but Halbarad climbed on. He looked up the cliff, steadying himself with his hands and feet, and that was when he saw it. The sight made his stomach lurch painfully, and his fingers dug into the crack in the cliff wall.

There, dangling over a wide rock outcropping, was an arm. Blood was mixing with the rainwater, running down the fingers and slowly dripping down to the ground. Lightning illuminated the sky, and it served to rip Halbarad out of his paralysis. With a frightened yell on his lips he climbed as fast as he could.

Only a few minutes later he pulled his body over the edge of the outcropping and sank to his knees next to Aragorn's unconscious form. "Oh, Aragorn. Please don't be dead." Halbarad said softly, before he let his eyes roam across his friend's body.

Aragorn had landed on his stomach, his left arm dangling over the edge. It was obviously broken, and the blood that Halbarad had seen came from the deep cut in the forearm, where the bone had pierced the skin. It shone sickeningly white in the lightning.

There was more blood on Aragorn's clothing and on the rough stone, but Halbarad could not tell precisely where it was coming from, or how seriously Aragorn was injured. The rainwater made it impossible to judge the amount of blood correctly. But what Halbarad could tell, was that Aragorn had hit his head rather badly. A large amount of blood was clotting his hair, and the whole right side of his face was bloody.

"Aragorn?" reaching out, Halbarad rolled his friend onto his back. There was a large gash on his forehead, with bright red blood trickling down the side of his face. Bruises were already forming on his left cheek, and there were numerous scratches on his face and neck. With a slightly shaking hand, Halbarad reached out and placed his fingers at Aragorn's neck. He waited with his breath held, but then he sighed in relief. A strong pulse was pounding under his fingers. Aragorn was alive.

"Aragorn? Can you hear me?" Halbarad slapped Aragorn's face, but he got no reaction. Long years of being a ranger and, even more importantly, Aragorn's friend, had trained him in staying calm when others would perhaps lose their nerve.

With a detached calmness he shrugged out of his tunic, seeing that his cloak was probably still lying up on the cliff's edge. With his knife he cut it in three large parts. One he wound around the gash in Aragorn's head, the other around the break in his arm, and the third he wound around chest, to support the ribs that were surely broken. No one could fall this far down a cliff wall and suffer no broken ribs.

Leaning over the edge, he made out the forms of the two younger rangers. "Romorin! Marek!" When both looked up to him, he continued, shouting against the howling of the storm, "He lives! But I need your help getting him down. One of you has to climb up here with a rope. I will climb down with him, while one of you holds the rope up here and the other stays down to help me when we reach the bottom."

Romorin and Marek exchanged a look of relief, that changed quickly into working modus. "Marek, you will climb up and I will…"

But Marek cut him off, "No, you will climb up and I will wait here."

Romorin gave him a searching look, but then he shrugged, grabbed a rope out of his pack and hastened up the cliff wall. Marek stayed behind, following Romorin's climb with his eyes. He was not entirely sure why he had refused to climb the cliff, but somehow he had not wanted to.

With tension rippling through his body Halbarad watched how Romorin climbed the cliff wall, reached the outcropping and swung over the edge. The young ranger gasped at the sight of the unconscious and bloody form of his Chieftain, but Halbarad gave him no time to lose his nerve.

"Here, help me to get him into the securing rope." He said matter of factly, and together Halbarad and Romorin managed to get Aragorn secured in the sling of the rope.

Only a few minutes later Halbarad's tall form climbed down, followed shortly by the unconscious form of Aragorn. Romorin was slowly letting the Chieftain down, while Halbarad steadied him as best he could. It was a slow descended, and when Halbarad finally put his feet on the ground, he needed a few moments to catch his breath.

In the meanwhile, Marek had taken Aragorn into his arms and placed him on the ground. As soon as the rope was removed, Romorin began to climb down, too. Together with Halbarad, Marek carried the unconscious Aragorn a bit further away from the cliff wall, to a place where they had camped the night before. There was a small cave here, actually only a little more than an overhang, but it would provide them with at least some sort of shelter from the rain and wind.

"Marek, go and have an eye on Romorin." Halbarad ordered, already stripping Aragorn of his wet cloak. Marek gazed at him a moment longer, but then he nodded and complied. He had not seen many corpses yet, but in his opinion, his Chieftain looked more dead than alive.

Once alone, Halbarad began to speak with his friend, while he removed first the leather overcoat and then the bloody tunic. More scratches and bruises were uncovered, and Halbarad flinched in sympathy when he saw the big black bruise on the left side of Aragorn's chest.

"This has to hurt, Aragorn. Why don't you wake up and tell me where it hurts precisely?" But Aragorn did not wake, did not even move, and so Halbarad checked for broken and bruised ribs. He was not very surprised when his searching fingers uncovered not only bruised, but some very definitely broken ribs.

"Seems as if you were not very lucky, Aragorn. But, it could have been much worse." Again, there was no reaction from Aragorn, and with a frustrated sigh Halbarad began to inspect Aragorn's legs and arms. Aragorn's left arm was badly broken, with the bone piercing the skin. The bandage that Halbarad had wound around the open fracture had at least already stopped the bleeding. The right arms was bruised, but it was not broken.

There were tears in Aragorn's pants and blood encrusted the knees, but Halbarad was sure that Aragorn's legs were not broken. Or at least, he hoped so. When he pulled off Aragorn's right boot, he could tell just by the look of the ankle that it had been twisted badly. Very badly. But, he was no healer, and although years of being a ranger had taught him the basic healing skills, he could not tell whether his ankle was simply sprained or actually broken. He would have to wait till Aragorn awoke to be sure.

Just when Marek and Romorin returned, both sopping wet and slightly out of breath, Halbarad removed the bloody bandage from around Aragorn's head.

"How is he?" Romorin asked, wiping the wet hair out of his face and huddling closer to the wall of the small cave to get out of the biting wind.

"He could be worse. And better." Halbarad said, already applying pressure to the gash on Aragorn's forehead to stop the bleeding. "His arm is broken, as well many of his ribs and probably his right ankle. And it would be a miracle if he has no concussion."

Crouching down, Romorin inspected Aragorn's broken arm. "Should we set it?"

Sighing, Halbarad shook his head. "No, at least not yet. As much as I hate to admit it, but I'm no healer. It would be best for Aragorn to be unconscious when we set the bone, but I need his advise before I attempt to set it. If I do it wrong, he could lose the use of his arm."

Marek swallowed, but said nothing. With detached interest he watched how Halbarad bound Aragorn's wounds with the bandages out of Romorin's pack, before he sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. Halbarad looked up at the two young rangers.

"I have done what I could. He will be fine for the moment, at least till he wakes. But we need to dry and warm him. We will need hot tea, perhaps some broth."

"I still have some kindling in my pack, it should have stayed dry during the storm." Romorin said helpfully, and immediately began to search through his pack for the wood. Marek stood and watched; he had forgotten to pack some wood this morning.

Half an hour later, the small cave was lit in an orange light, and the fire was crackling merrily. From now and then a gust of wind would bring rain into the cave, and the fire would smoke and sputter, but it burned. Slowly, the worst of the storm passed and night settled over the lands.

When it had become too dark to see outside of the light of the fire, Halbarad ordered the two young rangers to rest, while he kept watch over the lands and, more importantly, Aragorn. It unnerved him a bit that his friend had not yet woken, and he hoped that the hit on the head had not been too serious. They were in the wilds, with no horses and at least a three days journey from the next ranger outpost. These Ranger Hell Weeks made it necessary for them to travel without horses or a lot of supplies, seeing that these weeks were meant as a kind of initiation for the younger Dunedain that had decided to join the rangers.

Right now, Halbarad cursed these stupid rules.

Reaching out, he took one of the branches that lay near the fire and began to poke at it furiously. Sparks were flying into the air, and slowly the ceiling of the small cave began to turn black from all the soot.

Stupid rules, really.

Aragorn groaned inwardly. Why was his head hurting as if a troll had taken his club and repeatedly smashed it against his skull? Right after sitting on his arm, of course. Oh, and his ribs. Was the troll perhaps still sitting on his chest, with one hand tearing his arm to pieces and with the other banging his head against the ground? Well, that would certainly explain the pain.

Just when Aragorn had accepted that there was really a troll sitting on his chest, the other, more rational part of his brain told him that the possibility of a troll sitting on his chest was very slim. Not impossible given his luck with such things, but unlikely.

Annoyed, Aragorn tried to block the voice out that told him repeatedly to just open his eyes and see for himself why his chest and arm were hurting so much, not to mention his head. No, he really did not want to. The fact that he as in pain although he was not even truly awake could only mean that he would be in even more pain once he woke up completely.

And did he want that? No. End of story.

But, well, what if something serious had happened? Actually, what in the name of the Valar had happened? Wracking his brain, Aragorn tried to remember what he had been doing before the troll had come for a visit, and slowly very slowly a few snatches and pieces began to fill his otherwise blank mind.

A wood, a cliff, rain, wind…and then he had been falling. Falling…down that cliff he had climbed. Aragorn frowned in his mind, wondering why he had thrown himself down a cliff, and why he had been climbing said cliff in the first place. After a few seconds he came to the conclusion that he would not throw himself down a cliff, not for a good reason, anyway. So, he had been falling because something unforeseen had happened.

And then, out of nowhere, the face of Marek appeared in his mind, closely followed by all his other memories of the last few days, causing Aragorn to moan in frustration. No, he really did not want to wake up.

But, the next thing he felt was a cold hand on his forehead and another on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. Halbarad's voice reached his ears, telling him to wake up. Aragorn gave himself a mental slap. He had obviously groaned aloud, and now his friend was trying to wake him up to face the pain. Aragorn began to wonder whether Halbarad was really his friend; a real friend would let him fall back into blessed unconsciousness.

"Aragorn, wake up. Come on, my friend, open your eyes."

And to Aragorn own surprise, his eyelids followed that order and opened slowly, sluggishly. Traitors, he thought grumpily. When the first stab of orange firelight peeked in under his lids and reached his brain, his eyelids seemed to suddenly feel the same way, and he clenched them shut tightly. Another groan escaped his mouth, and Aragorn turned his head away from the fire.

Which was a very bad idea, given the fact that suddenly the troll on his chest hopped up and down in excitement, took his club and began to hammer away happily.

The hand on his forehead vanished, but the one on his shoulder didn't. It began to shake him harder, and Aragorn knew that Halbarad would not stop this before he had not opened his eyes and talked to him. Deciding that the troll would probably leave him alone once he had opened his eyes again, too, Aragorn tried once again to opened his eyes, but this time he immediately locked them on the rather blurry image of Halbarad instead of the torturing brightness of the fire. He blinked a few times, and when Halbarad got no sharper, he simply gazed up at him.

"Aragorn, can you hear me? Are you awake?"

This is really a stupid question, Aragorn thought, but he swallowed and answered obediently. The sooner he spoke with Halbarad, the sooner he could go back to sleep. Really, his whole body hurt.

"Hmmmm."

"I take that as a yes, then. Welcome back, Aragorn." Halbarad's voice was definitely too loud. Aragorn blinked again a few times, and this time the shapes around him became objects. A leather pack, a pair of boots, no, his boots, another pack, wood and there in the back, looking as if they were about to be eaten by a pack of hungry wolves, were Marek and Romorin.

So immersed was he in his surroundings, that he almost missed Halbarad's next words.

"How is your head, Aragorn? Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

Uhm, no, not until you mentioned it, thank you very much. Aragorn grimaced, but shook his head minutely in answer to the question. He could see Halbarad give him a broad smile, before his friend leaned closer and peered intently into his eyes.

"Of course not, stupid question really. I apologise, Aragorn. Of course you have no concussion after tumbling down the cliff and banging your head on every single rock on the way down."

To Aragorn, this sounded slightly sarcastic, but the pounding in his head and the pain shooting through the rest of his body prevented him from uttering the words that ran through his mind. He blinked once more, before letting his heavy eyelids slid shut. Sleep was all he wanted right now.

"Hmmmm." He muttered, telling his friend with this inarticulate sound that he had indeed no concussion although he knew he had, before he fell asleep.

Halbarad tucked the cloak tighter around his shoulders, before he sank back and sighed in relief. Aragorn would be fine. Grumpy for the next few days, but fine.

They had set the bone yesterday morning. And it had not been a pleasant experience. Neither for Halbarad, nor for Aragorn, and especially not for the two young rangers. At Aragorn's pained scream when the bone finally slid under the skin only to grate on the rest of the bone that was still in the arm, the two had started a race to the bushes to lose their breakfast; Aragorn and Halbarad were not sure who had won, but definitely not the bushes. Poor things.

Aragorn shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing miserably. For a few more moments he watched in silence how Halbarad stuffed various things in his pack, only to take them out a few seconds later. Sighing, Aragorn took a quick look around to make sure that the two young rangers were out of earshot.

"Halbarad, you cannot leave me here. With them." He hissed, only to hold his breath a moment later when his broken ribs protested.

"Aragorn, they are rangers. Young yes, but rangers. They will take good care of you until I am back." Halbarad gave Aragorn a long look, suppressing the smile that threatened to appear on his bearded face.

"But…Halbarad. Have you actually watched them yesterday? They act like children."

"They are nervous. A bit giddy, perhaps." This time, Halbarad did not look at Aragorn, knowing that if he did so, he would spoil the fun by laughing at his friend.

Sighing, Aragorn shook his head. "They will kill me."

"No, they will not. You are a big boy Aragorn, you will manage."

"I could come with you." It was a last attempt of Aragorn to be not left behind, but the moment he spoke he knew what Halbarad would say.

"We discussed this, Aragorn. That ankle of yours is broken, as are most of your ribs and your arm. You have a concussion, and although I am glad that it is not a bad as I feared, it is bad enough. You need rest and you cannot possibly make the trip back. I will go and get some horses and supplies." Halbarad closed his pack and finally looked back at Aragorn.

The sight of Aragorn's pleading face reminded Halbarad of a young puppy and he wondered how the twins had ever managed to say 'no' to him when he had been a child. Patting Aragorn's good leg, Halbarad smiled reassuringly. "All will be fine, Aragorn. You'll see."

Halbarad got to his feet, tightened his cloak around his shoulders and threw his pack over his shoulders.

"Save journey, Halbarad." Having given up on his hope to be allowed to accompany Halbarad, Aragorn gave his friend a serious look, which he returned.

"Aye." Giving Aragorn a last look, Halbarad could not stop himself from nodding his head in the direction of the two young rangers, his voice filled with humour. "And if they really manage to kill you, I will make sure that they get what they deserve."

"Oh, and that would be?" Aragorn called after Halbarad, who was already a few feet away from the small cave.

Turning, Halbarad grinned widely, "How about life long pipe prohibition?" And with that, he waved, turned and vanished behind some huge trees.

Tbc...


	3. Unlikely Heroes

**Title: The Ranger Hell Week**

**Disclaimer:** Tolkien's creations are not mine and I will never own them.

**Summary:** Aragorn and Halbarad have taken two young rangers under their wings. But when Aragorn gets injured in the wilds and Halbarad has to leave him, the two young rangers are the only ones who are there to help Aragorn survive.

**Rating:** PG-13

* * *

Chapter 3: Unlikely Heroes

Sighing, Aragorn leaned his head back against the empty pack he was using as a cushion and closed his eyes. Halbarad would need three days to reach the ranger outpost, then at least one and a half back with the horses, maybe a bit longer. That meant he would have to spend four or five days in the company of the two young rangers. Alone. And injured. Could his life become any more miserable?

"Uh, Aragorn, Marek and I wondered whether you need anything."

Yes, it could.

"No, Romorin, I am fine, thank you." Aragorn answered, opening his eyes out of politeness. His headache had gotten better, mostly due to the fact that he had slept most of the previous day, but it was still there and slowly grating on his nerve. The fact that the two rangers had manage to wake him more than ten times during his sleep the day before had not truly made him appreciate their presence. All he wanted to do now was catch some more sleep.

Romorin shuffled around for a few seconds and Aragorn counted silently to ten. Five, six, seven, eight…

"We could make some tea."

Keep calm. He only wants to help. Aragorn managed to smile up at Romorin. "No, thank you."

"But Halbarad told us to make sure that you drink enough." He sounded more than ever like an eager child and Aragorn vowed silently to hurt Halbarad for this order.

"Romorin, why don't you and Marek go and collect some more wood for the fire?" That had sounded civil enough, had it not?

Romorin eyed the huge pile of firewood that had been stacked at the end of the cave. It was enough wood to make a pyre; it would last for at least a week. Romorin frowned, but then nodded, "Aye, we can do that. If there is anything you need, Aragorn, we are just outside. You have just to call, we will hear you." And with that the young ranger practically fled the cave.

For a moment, Aragorn felt happy; now he could rest and think of all the different ways to make Halbarad pay for leaving him alone with these boys. But then, a wave of guilt washed over him. Romorin had only tried to help. This was not a situation the two had ever been in, and Aragorn knew that they were probably scared. After all, never before had the two had the responsibility for a life in their hands, let alone that of their Chieftain.

Groaning, Aragorn closed his eyes. He would apologise. Yes he would. Later. Once he had gotten a good nap that would surely chase away that nasty headache of his.

He had the feeling to have barely closed his eyes, when he was shaken awake. With a curse on his lips, Aragorn opened his eyes, ready to scold whoever it was that was waking him. Valar, his headache was still killing him, not to mention the pain in his arm or ribs.

"Aragorn, wake up!" Marek's voice sounded frightened, causing Aragorn to hold his tongue. It was dark in the cave, and Aragorn realised that he must have slept away the whole afternoon; he had not realised that he had been that tired.

"Marek? What is it?" He asked, rubbing his uninjured hand across his face to wake up more fully. Marek was still clinging to his shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into his skin.

"Wolves. There are wolves. We heard them."

This brought Aragorn fully awake in seconds. Wolves? Here? Halbarad and he had chosen this area not only because of its usefulness for the Ranger Hell Week, seeing that it had a deep river, some hills, a dense forest and this cliff, but also because it was known to be free of wild animals or orcs. At least, they had thought so.

"Are you sure, Marek?" Aragorn already tried to sit up, but the moment he moved the broken ribs in his chest stole his breath away.

Marek nodded, and in the light of the fire Aragorn could see the pallor of his face and the fear in his eyes. This was not good. In that moment, a high howl filled the night, followed by several others. Aragorn swallowed. This were definitely wolves, and they were close.

"Help me up, Marek."

For a moment, Marek looked as if he wanted to protest, but a sharp look from Aragorn stopped him. "This is not the time to argue, Marek." Would this boy never do as he said? Aragorn wondered not for the first time, but the next second he felt a pair of strong arms under his shoulders, helping him up into a sitting position.

The sudden movement made his head swim and he had to close his eyes until the dizziness passed. His ribs were sending stabs of pain through his whole chest, and by now his injured ankle throbbed painfully, too. All the signals his body send him told him that it was a bad idea to get up, that he should lay down and rest. But, if there were really wolves outside the cave, then they would have to fight. Wolves could smell blood and weakness for leagues.

Clenching his teeth, Aragorn pulled his legs up and tried to get to his feet, but he failed miserably when his injured ankle would not support his weight. Had it not been for Marek, he would have fallen back to the ground. As it was, he clung to the boy's arm it his good hand, and after a few long moments, Aragorn managed to stand on his own, albeit swaying slightly.

"Captain, Halbarad told us to not let you get up." Marek said, sounding terrified.

I will have a good word with Halbarad once he is back, Aragorn vowed, putting it on the mental list he had started the moment Halbarad had left him behind.

"Halbarad is not here, but those wolves are." With that, Aragorn moved away from Marek, using the cave wall for support instead. He slowly made his way over to the entrance of the small cave, peering out into the darkness. The moon was already high in the sky, and Aragorn realised that the had not only slept away the afternoon, but a good part of the night as well.

It was dark outside, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet. But there, on the other side of the small clearing in front of the cave, a pair of yellow eyes stared back at him. A moment later, a second pair of eyes appeared, then a third and a fourth.

Oh is this not wonderful, Aragorn thought sarcastically. He had no illusions that this pack only consisted of four wolves. They were three tall humans, with a burning fire; only a large pack of wolves would be bold enough to try to attack them. For a few more moments Aragorn stared at the pairs of eyes, before he turned back to the two young rangers.

In the light of the fire they looked even younger than they were, and Aragorn felt his heartbeat quicken. To learn how to fight was one thing, but to actually do it was something else entirely.

"Have you ever been in battle?"

Both boys shook their head, paling even more and causing Aragorn to sigh inwardly. "Then this will be your first fight. Get your weapons and make some torches. We will need them."

As quickly as they could, Marek and Romorin prepared some torches, lit them and moved up beside Aragorn, who had turned his attention back to the wolves that were slowly circling them.

"Do you have your swords?" Aragorn asked, placing his own hand over the hilt of his sword. The boys nodded, but said nothing. Their eyes were wide as saucers, reflecting the light of the moon.

"Your knives?"

Again, they nodded.

"Good. Bows will be of no use here, the wolves are already too close." Aragorn loosened the sword in its sheath as another howl echoed across the clearing. More pairs of yellow eyes appeared, and Aragorn knew that it was only a matter of time before the beasts would attack. They probably waited for the leader to arrive.

"Alright, now listen to me." Aragorn locked his eyes with the boys' for a moment, before he looked back at the wolves. His ankle already hurt horribly and his broken ribs was making breathing difficult, but he had to instruct the boys if they wanted to stand a chance in this fight.

"This pack is large, at least twelve animals, but I suspect that there are more hidden in the woods. They will come at us at once, not single file. A few will stand back and wait for a chance to break through our defences, but we must not give them that opening. This cave is probably the best position we could wish for, for it protects us from three sides."

Anther howls pierced the suddenly otherwise silent night. Marek shivered and Romorin swallowed thickly. Tightening his hold on his sword, Aragorn narrowed his eyes, following the form of a wolf through the underbrush.

"The bad thing is that this cave is too small for all three of us to fight side by side. We would impale us on out own swords." Aragorn leaned a bit more heavily on the cave wall, taking some strain from his ankle and hoping the boys would not notice. He continued in a calm voice, wanting to reassure the two and take some of their fear away.

"We will have to move out of the cave and into the open to be able to fight properly."

"O-out of the cave?" Marek stammered, wide eyed.

"I-into the open?" Romorin asked, his voice higher than that of a four year old girl.

"Aye, out of the cave and into the open. But we will stay with our backs to the cave wall, side by side. The one who fights in the middle will only have to face the wolves head on, the others have to protect their sides as well."

Aragorn had barely ended his sentence, when a loud growl filled the clearing. One by one the other wolves took it up, until the night was filled with the menacing howls and growls of the wolves. The leader had arrived. Time was up.

"Give me a torch!" Aragorn ordered, and Marek handed him one, almost letting it drop because of his shaking hands. With a fluent motion, Aragorn threw the torch into the night. It flipped a few times, before it landed at the other side of the clearing, illuminating a few wolves, who hurriedly retreated into the darkness of the woods.

"Another!" And again Aragorn threw the torch through the night. It landed in the middle of the clearing, creating a small circle of orange light. "Now, throw the others as well," Aragorn said, already reaching for a third one. Obediently, Marek and Romorin inched out of the safety of the cave and hurled the rest of the torches into the night. Soon, the clearing was illuminated by flickering flames.

"The fire will not hold them back for long." Aragorn said, eying the flames critically. He could see the wolves shift positions in the undergrowth and wondered when they would finally attack. It could not take long now, he was sure.

Taking a steadying breath, Aragorn leaned away from the cave wall. They would have to fight soon, and he knew that he could not fight while leaning against a wall for support. As soon as he shifted some of his weight on the injured ankle, a fiery pain shot through his ankle and up and down his leg, causing him to clench his teeth and grimace in pain. But, instead of seeking support, Aragorn took a hissing breath through his teeth and put even more weight on his injured leg. The sooner he numbed the ankle, the better.

Behind him, Marek and Romorin exchanged a worried look and tightened the grips on their swords. Another loud howl filled the clearing, chilling their blood. The light of the torches made the night even darker where it could not reach, and the two young rangers narrowed their eyes to make out their enemies. It was difficult to say how many animals there were, seeing that they seemed to exchange positions and move around stealthily.

Aragorn, too, had problems making out the number of the wolves, but that was not his only problem. His ankle hurt fiercely, as did his ribs, and he knew that it would get even worse once the fight started. And the fact that his sword arm was broken topped the whole mess off. Aragorn could fight left handed, almost as good with his right, but he knew that fighting one handed with a broken ankle and broken ribs would trough off his balance.

He made a quick decision. He knew that the two young rangers would not like it, but the two had no chance to survive this without his help, and he would not survive this fight without support.

"Marek, you fight to the left, Romorin, you will fight in the middle, while I will take up the right flank."

"But, Captain, your leg, you cannot…" Marek began, but was cut off almost instantly.

"Marek, for once, do as I tell you!" Aragorn's voice was a bit sharper than he had intended, but it could not be helped now. This was no training, this was reality. Still, when he unsheathed his sword with his left hand and moved into position, he vowed to remember to apologise not only to Romorin, but also to Marek.

In that moment, the first wolf broke through the underbrush, sharp teeth bared. More followed, and while the beasts rushed them, Aragorn wondered briefly whether there would be a chance to apologise.

His first sword stroke killed the oncoming wolf instantly, but more and more followed. After a few moments, all that Aragorn could see were snarling snouts, sharp teeth and furry bodies. He could hear Marek and Romorin fight to his left, but he had no time to take a look at how they fared. For as long as they were still on their feet, it was enough for him to know.

More wolves came at them, and they fought for their lives. The animals seemed never to tire, and they jumped over their fallen comrades without any hesitation.

Another wolf charged him, causing Aragorn to take a quick step back. His broken ankle wobbled under him, and Aragorn stumbled back against the cave wall. His injured ribs protested vehemently, and his still hurting head made his vision swim for a moment. It was all the time the wolf needed. With a growl that came from deep within his throat he jumped, claws reflecting in the firelight.

With a breathless gasp Aragorn threw his body to the side, and the wolf howled in anger as its prey fled its deadly yaws. Aragorn fell to the ground, the sword slipping from his grip and causing him to curse inwardly. His ribs hurt by now so much that he had no breath left to curse aloud.

Behind him, the wolf turned on his paws, lowered its head and growled deeply. Aragorn turned on his back, and when he fixed his gaze on the wolf, he knew that he had not much time left. He reached for the knife at his belt and had just unsheathed it when he wolf jumped. Its furry body hurled at him, smashing against Aragorn's chest. The knife cut deep into the wolf's side, opened the skin and breaking the ribs until it sank deep into the beating heart. With a last growl the wolf broke down, jerking in its death throws, until it lay finally still.

Panting, Aragorn tried to lift the dead weight from him chest, but his broken arm refused to cooperate. Groaning, he took a look around, searching for something to help him get the wolf off of him. Or at least his sword.

His searching gaze fell not on his sword, but on the two young rangers. Marek was bleeding from a cut to his cheek and Romorin was already swaying on his feet, but both rangers were still alive and fighting furiously. None of them had noticed Aragorn's plight, but as long as none of the wolves realized it as well…

In that moment, one of the wolves turned its shaggy head, fixing its yellow eyes on Aragorn. Another curse sprang to Aragorn's mind, and he tried again to lift the dead wolf off of him, but failed as miserably as he had done the first time. The weight was crushing his ribs and lungs, and he simply did not get enough air to mobilize all his strength.

If his brothers could see him now, he thought grimly, they would first rescue him, and then lecture him endlessly for having managed to end up sprawled on his back, with his sword gone and a hungry wolf charging at him.

Frantically, Aragorn tried to get the knife out of the dead wolf, but it seemed to be stuck between the ribs. Oh, for the glory of it all! A frustrated yell came from Aragorn, and he turned his head in the direction of the wolf. Only a few more feet, closer, closer…

The wolf crouched low to the ground, ready to jump, Marek suddenly called his name, one of the torches sputtered and hissed, a wolf howled, Romorin screamed, Aragorn held his breath…and a feathered arrowed hissed through the air and killed the crouching wolf on the spot.

Aragorn blinked. Then blinked again, but the wolf had definitely killed by an arrow. For a moment Aragorn wondered whether he had hit his head again when he had fallen, but then another arrow whistled through the air, killing a wolf that was charging at Marek.

And then, a horse galloped into the clearing, followed by another. More arrows came from the trees, injuring the wolves and scattering the confused animals. One of the horses galloped up to Aragorn, came to a sudden stop, sending earth flying in all directions. The rider dismounted quickly, silver sword flashing in the firelight.

Giving the horse a slap on its hindquarters, the riders sent it rushing away, before he looked down on Aragorn. Halbarad lifted an eyebrow and sighed deeply.

"Well Aragorn, it seems I can not leave you out of my sight for even a second without you causing trouble."

Aragorn let his head sink back and sighed. Who needed the twins when he had Halbarad to lecture him?

Mist hung over the clearing, hiding the dead bodies of the wolves that had been slain in the night. The rangers had killed as many as they had been forced to, leaving the rest to flee and seek their luck elsewhere. Of course, they would send a patrol after them, but their first concern had been Aragorn, Marek and Romorin.

Both young rangers had been injured, but their injuries were not serious. Their wounds had been treated, and when the adrenalin of the battle had slowly left their bodies, they had fallen into a deep sleep.

The sun peeked up over the tops of the trees, but Aragorn had not been able to sleep during the rest of the night. The fight had caused his injuries to roar to new levels of pain, and the fact that Halbarad had insisted on treating them once more with the herbs he had brought, had not helped the matter either. It would take time for the herbs to take effect, and Aragorn hoped that he would be able to sleep a bit once they did.

At least, Halbarad had used the time while treating his wounds to tell him why he was back so early. He had just pitched his camp for the night, when he had met the group of rangers from the outpost, who had chased the same pack of wolves that had attacked Aragorn and the two young rangers. For once it seemed, that Aragorn had been lucky.

Aragorn watched the sunrise tiredly, swathed his blankets and due to the herbs finally, after hours, relatively pain free. He was ready to drop off to sleep, when the Marek's called him back from near sleep.

"Captain?"

Sighing inwardly, Aragorn blinked his eyes open. "Mhmmm?"

"Uh, Halbarad send me to ask whether you needed anything."

"No, nothing, thank you." Aragorn said calmly, but inwardly he was fuming. Marek nodded, then turned back and made his way over to Romorin, who was retelling his fight with the wolves for maybe the hundredth time.

Aragorn followed Marek's retreating back, but when he eyes fell on Halbarad, he narrowed them menacingly. Halbarad was vainly trying to suppress the smirk that threatened to escape, and when Aragorn lifted a frustrated eyebrow, he could not suppress it any longer and laughed heartily. The rest of the ranges gave him strange stares, but Halbarad ignored them and made his way over to Aragorn.

Sitting down next to him, he gave him a broad grin. "Nice boy, he is, is he not. Always so concerned about your well being, Aragorn."

"Halbarad, cousin and friend or not, I am going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully." Aragorn ground out, causing Halbarad to laugh out loud once more.

"Oh come now, Aragorn. I only meant to make your days with those two rascals as funny as possible."

"You will understand if I forget to thank you for that, won't you?" Aragorn yawned, and Halbarad patted him on his leg.

"You should sleep a bit, Aragorn. I promise to keep the boys entertained for some time. Promise."

"Mhmmm." Aragorn made, but then he managed a smile. "Thank you for being back so quickly and saving the day."

"You're welcome, Aragorn." Halbarad got to his feet. "And well, I could not leave you alone with them for so long."

"Why not?" Aragorn asked, looking up at his friend.

Sighing deeply in mock suffering, Halbarad tilted his head to the side. "To keep you company when you are injured is no light feat, Aragorn. You can be quite grumpy, you know. It needs a real hero to do that."

And with that, Halbarad made his way over to the two young rangers, while Aragorn muttered an 'I am not grumpy' under his breath. He watched how Halbarad gave Marek and Romorin a hearty slap on the shoulder, and heard his unnecessary loud words float back to him.

"That was quite a feat! A task worthy for a real hero!"

Groaning, Aragorn closed his eyes and tried to get to sleep. But before he finally fell asleep, he vowed to not only apologize to Marek and Romorin, but also find a piece of paper and a quill to pin down all the numerous ways to get his revenge on Halbarad he was able to think of.

Grumpy, he was never grumpy.

The End.

**So, do you like it?**


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